


Unbroken In A Breaking Light

by hannasus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Fix-It, Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannasus/pseuds/hannasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda felt it when Pietro died. And she felt it when he stopped being dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbroken In A Breaking Light

**Author's Note:**

> starrynightshade asked for the Maximoff twins being happy, and I'm not sure I quite got them all the way to happy, but I hope this comes close.

She’d felt him die. She was certain of it.

His presence in the world had been a part of her since before she’d drawn her first breath, and later her heightened awareness of him was the first sign of the gift that had manifested in her. When that presence had gone out of the world it was as if something had been torn from her own chest. She would always live with the memory of that pain.

But now … she could feel him again. It was faint, and distant, but it was there. As surely as he had been gone, he was back.

She turned to look at the being Ultron had created—the man. Vision, they had named him. He had saved her from the wreckage of the city and flown her to safety, and she had resented him for it. She _wanted_ to die. What was left for her to live for now?

Except that now it seemed Pietro wasn’t gone after all. Was he?

Vision nodded, reading the unspoken question in her expression. “Yes,” he said gently. “He lives.”

“How?” she asked.

“His gift enabled his body to recover from its injuries.”

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I need to see him.”

Vision nodded again, and gathered her in his arms.

* * *

They only let her see him for a moment. He was unconscious, pale as death, and there was so much blood, but she could feel him—the delicate flicker of life inside him. She laid a hand on his forehead. There was no consciousness yet, but there would be. He was coming back to her.

The doctors wheeled him away. A uniformed woman came and asked Wanda to follow her to another room, where she could wait. There was nothing else for her to do, nowhere else for her to go, so she complied. The woman asked if there was anything she needed, and Wanda shook her head. Then the woman went away and left her alone.

The room was small and austere, furnished only with a few uncomfortable chairs, a small round table, and pair of vending machines. She hated this American airship where they had brought Pietro and the other Sokovian refugees. It was cold and windowless, like a flying metal tomb. The vibrations of the engines hummed in the back of her mind and pulsated through the walls and the floors, a persistent buzz that surrounded her like a swarm of hornets. She could sense the other Sokovians on board, in another section of this oppressive behemoth, and she was grateful to have been separated from them. Their pain and grief pricked her like a thousand needles.

The adrenaline surge that had been propelling her for the last several hours was finally subsiding, and she felt her muscles begin to tremble with exhaustion. She leaned forward in her hard metal chair and pressed her eyelids against the heels of her hands. Just as Dr. List had taught her when her gift was still new and painful as an open wound, she narrowed her focus, turning all of her attention to an awareness of her own body: her breathing, the beat of her heart, the tensing and relaxing of her muscles. Gradually, the outside world receded, until it was just a dull, distant throb in the background of her perception.

She had no idea how long she was sitting like that before the door opened and someone else entered the room. She didn’t have to look up to know that it was the archer: Barton. The one who had hurt her, but then later spoken to her with compassion and understanding. The one Pietro had given his life for.

Some part of her wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t seem to manage it. He had been saving a child. A child of her own country, separated from his parents, and Barton had risked his life to rescue him. How could she hate him for that, even if it had cost her Pietro?

Except that Pietro was alive. She had to keep reminding herself of that. The memory of his death was still too raw, seared onto her soul like a brand.

“Here,” Barton said, coming towards her.

She caught the aroma of coffee, and sat up.

He was holding out a paper cup with steam curling off the top. “I didn’t know how you take it so I went ahead and put cream and sugar in it.” His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged and he had changed out of his uniform and into a t-shirt and sweatpants with the SHIELD logo on them.

She accepted the cup from him wordlessly and took a tentative sip. It was oily and burnt-tasting, with a bitter metallic tang.

“Pretty awful, huh?”

She shrugged. She’d had much worse. And she was grateful for the warmth of it, even if she was unwilling to admit it to this man. She would be damned if she would allow herself to be any more beholden to these people than she already was.

Barton wandered over to the vending machines, moving stiffly. He leaned against the glass, resting his head against his forearm, and sighed deeply. After several long moments he reached into his pocket and drew out a wallet. “You want anything?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled out several American bills.

Just the thought of all those candy bars and salty snack chips made her feel queasy. She shook her head.

Barton turned back to the machine and inserted his money. He tapped his selection into the keypad and a Snickers bar dropped into the dispenser. When he stooped to retrieve it he made a slight grunting noise, as if the movement pained him.

She touched his mind briefly and noted the broken ribs, the bruises, and the strained muscles that he had incurred in the battle. She was lucky, she supposed, that her own body was more or less intact.

Barton unwrapped his candy bar and took a large bite. “Mind if I sit?” he asked with his mouth full.

She shrugged again.

He sat down, leaving an empty chair between them. “Hell of a day, huh?”

Wanda just stared at him.

“Yeah,” Barton said, nodding. “That’s pretty much how I feel about it, too.” He took another bite of his candy bar.

She turned away from him and stared at the far wall. There was a poster hanging there, directing employees to cover their coughs and wash their hands. How stupid must they be, she wondered, to require such instructions in the form of cartoon figures?

“They say he’s gonna be okay,” Barton said. “Your brother, I mean.”

“Yes,” Wanda said. Her voice was rough with fatigue.

“I’m glad. He’s something, that brother of yours. He saved my life, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You probably wish he hadn’t bothered.”

She turned to look at him again. “You have a family.” They were there in his mind. Two small children, a pregnant wife. He kept them a secret out of fear for them.

He flinched, his mouth forming into a frown. “I really don’t like people messing around in my head.”

“It’s happened to you before.” She could see that as well: a blank space where memories should be, the knowledge that he had killed people, the guilt.

His frown deepened. “You want me to leave you alone, all you gotta do is say so.”

“Sorry,” she said, and withdrew from his mind. She was sorry. Now that she had looked inside of him it was even more difficult to hate him. She looked away. “Will they come to arrest me soon?”

“For what?” he asked around a mouthful of candy bar.

“For aiding Ultron.”

He grunted. “International law’s kinda fuzzy on the use of telekinesis to abet a synthetic life form.”

“It’s my fault," she said hollowly. "All of the destruction, all of the deaths. I caused it.” It almost felt good to admit it aloud.

“Pretty sure that was all Ultron’s fault, actually.”

She looked at him. She wanted to touch his mind, to see if he meant it, but he had asked her not to, and she knew now that he didn’t deserve to be violated. But his face was flat and unreadable, and told her nothing. “I joined his cause of my own free will,” she said. “I helped him to destroy my own country.”

His expression softened somewhat. “You didn’t know what he was planning. And you stopped helping him as soon as you found out. You fought against him. You helped save the world.” He shrugged. “That’s good enough for me.”

His words were comforting; she wanted to believe them. She had to remind herself that he was a spy. A professional liar. “Is it up to you?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth twisted into something that might have been a smile. “Probably not. But if I can understand it, other people can too.” He wadded up his candy wrapper and tossed it into the trash can across the room.

“If they are not going to arrest me then why are you here?”

He slumped down in his chair and leaned his head back against the wall. “It’s like I told you before: if you join the fight, you’re an Avenger.” He cut a glance over at her. “You’re one of us now. And you shouldn’t have to wait here alone for news about your brother.”

“Thank you,” she told him, surprised by how much she meant it.

He shrugged. “There’s a pretty good chance I’m gonna fall asleep here in a minute. But you should wake me if you need anything.”

True to his word, he was fast asleep within minutes. After a while, Wanda allowed herself to follow suit.

She woke to a gentle touch on her shoulder several hours later. Barton was standing over her. “Come on,” he said. “Your brother’s out of surgery.”

* * *

Pietro was still unconscious, but his color was much improved. And he was dreaming. The images were fuzzy and distorted from the anesthetic and pain medicines, but they were mostly pleasant.

Barton had left her alone with him, but he’d said the medical personnel just outside could get in touch with him if she needed anything.

The doctor had predicted it would be an hour or more before Pietro woke. Wanda sat down in the chair beside his bed and waited. It only took fifteen minutes.

“Pietro,” she said when she felt his mind begin to awaken. “I’m here.”

His eyes fluttered open. He looked around, his brow creasing. “Where?” he asked hoarsely.

“The SHIELD airship,” she told him. “They brought you here after—” She broke off, unable to make the rest of the words come out.

He frowned, reaching for her hand. “Don’t cry, little sister.”

She interlaced her fingers with his and wiped the tears from her face. “We’re the same age, lame-brain.”

“I’m twelve minutes older than you, butterfingers.”

She couldn’t believe he was lying there teasing her, when only a few hours ago she thought she’d lost him forever. A ragged sob escaped her lips. “I felt you die, Pietro.”

“But I’m not dead anymore,” he said, squeezing her hand. He gazed around the room with an expression of distaste. “I’m not, am I? Because if this is heaven I want to register a formal complaint.”

She smiled faintly. “No, you’re not dead anymore.”

“And did we save the world?”

She rolled her eyes, smiling a little more. “Yes, Pietro, we saved the world.” His irrepressible optimism had always been unfathomable to her. But she was so grateful for it. God, was she grateful.

He tried to sit up and quickly abandoned the effort, wincing.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, affecting a very serious tone. “It’s the most terrible pain any man has ever experienced. If not for my naturally heroic nature, I would not be able bear it at all.”

She laughed out loud. “You are an insufferable bellyacher.”

His gaze went to the doorway, to a group of uniformed soldiers walking past, and his smile faded. “What will they do with us now?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She hadn’t given much thought to anything beyond this moment.

“They can’t hold us,” he said quietly. “As soon as they land this thing we’ll be able to get away.”

“Maybe we don’t have to,” she said. His eyebrows lifted in surprise and she shrugged. “Maybe they’re not so bad.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Who are you and where did my sister go?”

“I mean it,” she said. “What if we didn’t have to be on our own anymore? What if we could be Avengers?” It was surprisingly appealing, the thought of being part of a team. Of having a chance to make up for some of the damage they’d done.

Pietro nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You know, I think I like the sound of that.”

 


End file.
